


Unique Out of Millions

by KallanEboi



Series: Unique out of Millions [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KallanEboi/pseuds/KallanEboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty's gotten his hands on a Vortex Manipulator. The Doctor and River need a bit of help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unique Out of Millions

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 2.2 for Sherlock (slight for 2.3, but you won't notice unless you've seen it), through the 2011 Christmas Special for Doctor Who.

Sherlock, hands pressed together in front of his face as if in prayer, examined the man in front of him. 

John and Sherlock had come home, flush with victory from solving a case. A valuable artefact was on its way back to Russia, no one had gotten shot at, and, much to John’s relief, a check for a considerable amount was on its way to them as a finder’s fee. That the finding had required two break-ins and a short fistfight was neither here nor there. And it was well before noon. John knew Sherlock would be bored by one o’ clock, but he could deal with that.

And then there was a man in their sitting room, one that neither of them knew. Sherlock had cocked his head, pressed his hands together, and stared.

“Well?” the man asked. “Figured it out yet?” He smiled brilliantly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

John watched Sherlock study the man with the wild hair and the old eyes and the bow tie who was standing in their living room. John had never known Sherlock to take so long to figure someone out. He at least would make smartass quips in the meantime. He didn’t look confused, but his expression was somewhere close. He circled the strange man, who did not even move to keep Sherlock in his sights. The man just looked amused. John heard Sherlock mutter, “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be true.”

“Oh, bloody hell, we’re not drugged again are we?” John exclaimed.

“Hmm, what?” replied Sherlock, distracted. “No, of course not.”

“Then it’s some kind of lingering effect?”

“No, the drugs are gone from your system. Yes, I’m sure,” Sherlock said, cutting off John’s next question.

“Then what—”

“That—that being, for his is not a man, whatever he may look like, is not human,” Sherlock pronounced. “I see him, you see him, we’re not drugged, and the disguise is very good.”

John stared at Sherlock, convinced that the man had finally gone out of his mind. Sherlock huffed with exasperation.

“Just look at him, John! His boots are creased across the top from wear, probably from walking and running. Most likely from running. And tweed, braces, boots and a bow tie. Old clothes on a young man, or at least a person with a young man’s face. The clothes are well enough, but the wear patterns indicated they had been worn by someone else before,” Sherlock said, pointing at each article of clothing in question.

“But Sherlock, that’s—”

“He’s right, you know,” the man—being—said. “I’m not human.”

“I told you,” Sherlock said to John before he turned to the stranger. “Now, what do you want?”

“A woman told me to meet her here on the twenty-second of March at 10:43 in the morning,” the man replied, gazing around the room. “Why do those horns have headphones?”

“A woman told you?” John asked. “And, just by the way, who are you?”

“Oh! I’m the Doctor,” the man replied.

“Doctor who?” John asked. He knew he was asking a lot of questions, but Sherlock wasn’t, and John wanted to know what the hell was going on.

“Never mind that,” the Doctor said as Sherlock said, “That’s his name, John.”

“How do you know that?” John asked Sherlock. He hoped he didn’t look as lost as he felt.

“Because we’ve met before,” Sherlock replied, examining the Doctor again. “You looked different then, Doctor.”

“Yeah, well, still me. I remembered you were a smart one,” the Doctor said. “You though,” he said, turning to John, “you’re new.”

“Doctor John Watson,” John replied.

“A soldier, then?” the Doctor asked, looking him up and down. It wasn’t quite Sherlock all-encompassing gazes, the looks that made him feel like one of Sherlock’s specimens under a microscope, but it was close.

“How’d you know?”

“The way you’re standing, the way you introduced yourself,” the Doctor replied, waving his hand distractedly, indicating that it didn’t matter. “It’s really not important. Now, where is she? She’s late.”

“She who?” Sherlock asked.

“River,” the Doctor replied.

“The Thames?” John asked, feeling more lost by the second.

“What? No. River Song,” the Doctor said. “I usually pick her up from outer space of from mid-air, she liked to fall off, or out of, things. It’s 10:47, where is she?”

“Doctor, will you please sit down?” Sherlock said, indicating the chairs in front of the fireplace. 

John and the Doctor both sat, John in his usual chair and the Doctor in Sherlock’s. The corner of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. John looked frustrated. 

“Okay, Doctor, tell me about your case,” Sherlock said. “It’s bound to be interesting, and I’m bored.”

“Well, see, I don’t actually know,” the Doctor replied. “Has anything happened recently, anything out of the ordinary?” John barely stopped himself from scoffing. The Doctor noticed, smiled briefly, and said, “Anything that doesn’t make sense, anyway?”

There was a sudden crackle and a puff of smoke as a woman with light brown curls appeared in the living room.

“Finally!” the Doctor exclaimed. The sound of John’s gun cocking drew everyone’s attention. He stood, his gun pointed at the woman.

River pulled her own blaster at the sound. She pointed it at John and said, “Drop it.”

“Hey! Whoa!” the Doctor said, stopping between them. “Everyone put the guns down. River, you know better. This is Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. Sherlock, Dr. Watson, River Song.”

River and John both hesitated.

“Now,” the Doctor said, his tone brooking no argument. Sherlock watched everything from the desk. He hadn’t even moved.

River shrugged and holstered her blaster. John put his gun on the table, well within easy reach.

“Hello, sweetie,” River said, grinning at the Doctor.

“You’re late,” he replied.

“You’re early,” she said.

“‘Sweetie’?” Sherlock asked, incredulous. 

“Long story,” the Doctor replied. “Anyway, we’re all here. Why are we all here?” He turned to River.

“And after we find that out, can someone please explain how she even got here in the first place?” John interjected.

“We’re here because I need help,” River said, and everyone’s attention fixed on her. “I asked the Doctor to come to you two because the person I’ve been running from is someone you two know very well, and you’re the only people who have actually met him and survived.”

“Moriarty,” Sherlock breathed. His fingers twitched, the only sign of his eagerness, but John saw it. 

“Oh, good, I did get the timelines right,” River said.

“What’s he doing that requires an alien, a time-traveller, a consulting detective, and a military doctor?” Sherlock asked.

“Wait—did you say ‘time-traveller’?” John asked.

“Oh, he is good,” River said, turning to the Doctor.

“I know,” the Doctor replied, grinning.

“Look at her clothes, John, at her gun,” Sherlock said, motioning at River. “You’re a soldier, and I know a good deal about fire arms. That is a type I’ve never seen before.”

“Ah, 21st century, still working with ballistic weaponry,” River said.

“Moriarty,” Sherlock prompted.

“Yes, Jim,” River said. “He’s somehow managed to get himself one of these.” She held up her left wrist, showing them a wide leather arm band.

“And what is that?” Sherlock asked.

“Vortex Manipulator, cheap and dirty time travel,” the Doctor said. “I thought I took that from you.”

“You might’ve, but you haven’t yet,” River said. “Spoilers.”

“And what is Moriarty doing with his…Vortex Manipulator?” Sherlock asked, striding over and grabbing River’s arm. He lifted the flap on the leather band and looked at the small keypad and digital readout inside of it. “It looks like a calculator.” He poked a button and the television clicked on.

River extracted her arm, pushed the button to make the television turn off, and closed the cover. “What any person would do when given the ability to travel in time, even someone as insane as he is.”

“You’re saying that he can travel in time now?” John demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The good doctor’s catching on,” River said. “Jim Moriarty’s got himself a true time machine that also travels through space. He, quite literally, I’m afraid, has all of time and space at his disposal. Now, think about that and then ask what he couldn’t do.” 

“And that’s not good for a human in the 21st century,” the Doctor said.

“Temporal causality mathematics haven’t even been invented yet,” River chimed in. John took a few seconds to parse that sentence. 

“And he really likes explosions,” John muttered after a moment of silence. Sherlock looked gleeful. John made a mental note to tell him off for that later.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find him!” the Doctor said.

“But how?” Sherlock asked. “That wristband surely can’t transport all four of us at once. I don’t even know how it works.”

“It could, if you wanted to get really car sick,” the Doctor said, grinning brilliantly. “Fortunately, I’ve got something much better than that old thing.

“Boys and their toys,” River muttered fondly.

“I’m still not convinced you’re not here just pulling my leg,” John said, resolutely not moving from his spot near his chair. 

Sherlock’s phone beeped and he checked the text message.

“Lestrade. He wants us to meet him at a crime scene,” he told John, texting as he spoke. “Homicide, locked room.”

“I think Moriarty with a time machine is a little more pressing,” John replied. 

“Exactly,” Sherlock said, shoving his phone in his coat pocket. “I told him we’d be there.”

“What?” John asked, confused.

“We will. The Doctor said he has a time machine,” Sherlock replied. “He can get us back in time for the case.”

“I can get you back whenever you want to be back,” the Doctor said. “Assuming we don’t collapse the time vortex or need to reboot the universe or something.”

“Does that happen often?” John asked, curious despite of his scepticism. 

“More often than I’d like,” the Doctor admitted. “Come on, then.”

Everyone followed him out of the front door and there, just in front of 221B, was the TARDIS.

“We’re going to put four people in a police box from the 1950s?” John said sarcastically.

“No, we’re going to put three humans and one Time Lord into a TARDIS. Keep up, Dr. Watson,” the Doctor said. John looked insulted. The Doctor grinned, snapping his fingers to open the doors. Everyone followed him inside.

“I think I’m ‘keeping up’ quite well, all things con…sid...ered,” John said, trailing off as he stepped inside. “Ah.”

“Yep!” the Doctor said. “You’re doing fairly well.” He jumped onto the console platform. “Welcome aboard. River, all hands on deck.”

River pushed past the other two who had stopped to stare just inside the doors. She joined the Doctor at the console and began flipping switches and pulling levers.

“Close the door, Sherlock,” she said as the TARDIS began to groan. Sherlock pushed the door closed behind him without turning around.

“Well then you lot, come on,” the Doctor said. “We need to lock on to the Vortex Manipulator the Moriarty has. River, can I borrow yours?”

“It’s bigger,” John said.

“That’s obvious,” Sherlock said, but there was no rancour in his voice. “It’s also different.”

“So you believe me now,” the Doctor said, not looking up.

“It’s bigger. On the inside,” John said.

“Explain it to him,” Sherlock said to the Doctor, quickly climbing the stairs up to the console platform.

“Time Lord technology,” the Doctor said.

“Excuse me,” John said, slowly climbing the stairs behind Sherlock. “Time Lord?”

“An alien race,” Sherlock said. It wasn’t a question, but John thought that Sherlock was trying to wrap his mind around the concept, to find a place to file it away in his mental hard drive. Although, John thought, if Sherlock had already me the Doctor once, maybe he was trying to reconcile what he knew with what he was seeing now. 

“Exactly,” the Doctor said. “Keep up. This is the TARDIS, a ship that travels in both time and space. River, how’s it coming?”

“I’m trying to figure out the best point to lock on to him,” she said. “You all haven’t crossed his timeline yet, so we can go in at almost any point.”

“What about before he got the manipulator thing? Or before he was even born?” John suggested.

“It would make sense, to prevent all of this from happening to start with,” Sherlock said.

“I crossed his timeline after he got the manipulator, and you two have already interacted with him now, so you can’t go back. You can’t cross your own timeline.”

“Why not?” John said, looking at the console, studying it.

“It’ll rip the universe apart,” the Doctor said, yanking on another lever.

“Got him,” River said, pulling the screen down.

Sherlock circled the console, his gaze flicking over each switch, knob, and lever. The Doctor and River paid him no mind, but John knew that look. He backed away, bracing himself on the railing as Sherlock reached out and pulled a lever.

The lights immediately dimmed. All of the noise slowly died in a low whine. The only light came from the central column of the TARDIS. 

“Oi! What’d you do that for?!” the Doctor demanded, moving from the other side of the console to stand nearly toe-to-toe with Sherlock.

“I want to know exactly what’s going on,” Sherlock said, matching the Doctor glare for glare. They were very nearly the same height, John observed. “I do not like being kept in the dark, Doctor. You will explain what Moriarty is doing and how we are going to find him, or I will pull another lever just to see what will happen.”

“Is he always like this?” River asked John.

“Pretty much, yeah,” John replied, leaning against the railing and crossing his arms. He figured this discussion ought to be interesting.

“As far as I know, as far as anyone knows, Jim Moriarty hasn’t done much,” River said. She hadn’t moved from the monitor. “He’s stolen a few things, blown up a small space dock, but he hasn’t done much in that would impact anything important.”

“Can we track where he’s been?” John asked. “Or when he’s been?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, still glaring at Sherlock. 

“The problem is that he’s jumping around so much and so often that it’s hard to nail down a concrete point in his timeline,” River said.

“But once we establish that, we’ll be able to track him down and hopefully stop him before he’s able to put his plan into action,” the Doctor said, whirling away from Sherlock and turning back to the console.

“It’s his plan I’m worried about,” John said. “He tends to account for everything that could go wrong, and then do it anyway in the worst possible way before running away gloating.”

Sherlock still stood with his hand on the lever, watching the Doctor and River. He glanced back at John, who was still leaning against the railing watching.

“That still doesn’t explain how we’re going to find him,” Sherlock said.

“You’re inside the TARDIS,” the Doctor said to Sherlock, speaking slowly. He stepped up so he was nearly nose-to-nose with Sherlock again and continued, “I can do anything within the laws of physics and several outside of them, including locking on to the signal of one little human with a Vortex Manipulator. So, Sherlock, if you would kindly push that lever back up, I’ll show you exactly how we’re going to find him.” The Doctor stood, staring, waiting for the Sherlock to make a move. Sherlock blinked first, and John smiled as Sherlock took a step back and pushed the lever back up. The lights came on and the TARDIS shuttered back into flight.

“Is there someone else we could notify? At least to keep an eye out for him?” John asked. The Doctor and River turned to look askance at him. “You two can’t be the only time travellers, it stands to reason there would be more who could help.”

“That’s not a bad idea. What about Jack?” River said to the Doctor. 

“Jack? Harkness? Really?” the Doctor replied.

“Well, he’s a little more mobile than we are,” River pointed out.

“He’s with Torchwood,” the Doctor said, very nearly spitting out the word.

“Torchwood?” John asked.

“Government organization,” Sherlock replied. “Well, of a sort. Mycroft has a file on them, but even he doesn’t know very much.”

“You went through his files,” John accused him. They’d talked about Sherlock sneaking in to look at other people’s stuff. John had given up on trying to keep Sherlock out of his own things, but outside of their flat it was another matter.

“He had gone through mine, it was only fair.”

“The Jack I know isn’t with Torchwood anymore,” River said.

“When did you meet him and why didn’t you tell me?” the Doctor asked, turning away from the console to face River.

“Spoilers,” River replied with a small smile. The Doctor let out a noise of frustration. “We’re here, by the way,” River said.

“Where is here, exactly?” John asked, and then staggered as the TARDIS landed. “Jesus!”

“Yeah, he’s never been the best pilot,” River said fondly, glancing at the Doctor.

“I did just fine for over seven hundred years before you!” the Doctor said without looking up from the other side of the console.

“My question still stands,” John said, effectively stopping their argument.

Sherlock, looking fed up, strode to the door and turned the latch.

“Don’t!” the Doctor said just as Sherlock pulled the door open.

John flinched at the Doctor’s yell, at the unknown that waited beyond the door. Years of military training said, “Bomb! Enemies! Guns!” were on the other side of that door.

But nothing happened.

“Really, Doctor?” Sherlock said, stepping aside so the other four could see out of the door.

“London?” John asked. A levitating car went past the open doorway. “Ah,” John said faintly. “Not London, then.”

“Well, not your London,” the Doctor said. “It is a London, though.”

“What?” John asked. He was beginning to get seriously tired of asking that particular question. It was getting very old very quickly.

“New London, 4108,” the Doctor replied. “A little over two thousand years in your future, and several million miles away from your London.”

John barely resisted the urge to say, “What?” again.

“Humanity hasn’t changed much,” Sherlock observed from the door. His eyes moved very quickly, taking in and cataloguing his new surroundings. John found it almost comforting to see Sherlock looking at this new world in much the same way he would look for details at a crime scene.

“You lot generally don’t,” the Doctor replied, striding out of the door. The others followed after him, Sherlock and John looking around with open curiosity. River was typing furiously on a handheld touch screen device. John rather thought it looked like the bastard offspring of an iPad and one of those super heavy duty laptops he’d used in the military. “Big old universe, and what do you do? You rebuild London. London, of all cities. Ah, well, most cities have echoes of each other, but I’d imagine you’d be able to find your way from Regent’s Park to New St. Bartholomew’s quite easily.”

“I have no idea where we are,” John said, looking around.

“If we were in my London, I’d say we were on Baker Street,” Sherlock said, looking up and turning in a slow circle, scanning the buildings from rooftop to pavement level. 

“Very good,” River said, looking up from her device for the first time. “Doctor, I’m picking up traces of artron energy, and it’s not from us.”

The Doctor looked over River’s shoulder at the screen she held in her hand. 

“It’s coming from just ahead,” he said, looking up in surprise. 

“Doctor,” River said, pointing at a large sign in front of them.

“Oh, seriously?!” John exclaimed when he’d read the sign. “Sherlock’s got a bloody museum! On a different planet!”

Sherlock just looked confused. “What did I do to have this?” he asked, moving to walk towards it.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Doctor said, grabbing Sherlock’s arm and dragging him back. “You’re not going in there.”

“Why not?” Sherlock demanded.

“You can’t know what’s in there,” the Doctor said. “There are details about not just your life in there, but your future. You cannot know, no one is supposed to know that.” Sherlock studied the Doctor’s face as the Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it.

“Tell me,” Sherlock said. “Tell me what you were about to say.”

The Doctor shifted his weight from foot to foot. “There’s a fixed point coming up,” the Doctor said reluctantly. “A point that cannot change, a point that will change history, a turning point, and you cannot know what that means. Neither of you can.” The Doctor looked at John making sure he was listening to him. 

John didn’t find it very hard to believe that someone had made a museum for Sherlock. He just couldn’t quite get over the fact that they had done so more than two thousand years in the future.

“Hang on,” he said, stepping up next to Sherlock. “What do you mean a fixed point?”

“A fixed point is an event that cannot be changed,” River said. “It cannot be altered in any way, and it absolutely must happen. Sometimes these are big things, like civilizations collapsing, but other times they’re small things, at least on a universal scale, but they’re things that matter a great deal in their far-reaching consequences.” She looked at Sherlock, and her look was something that was too uncomfortably near pity for John to take.

“I’m not concerned about knowing when I die,” Sherlock said, looking the Doctor directly in the eye.

“But your friends would be,” the Doctor said softly, kindness in his voice. “So you two will stay here while River and I go inside. Don’t wander off.” He and River turned and walked away.

“‘Don’t wander off,’” Sherlock spat in a fairly decent impression of the Doctor once he and River were out of earshot. Sherlock turned on his heel, his coat swirling out behind him.

“Sherlock,” John said as he hurried to catch up. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the TARDIS,” Sherlock said. 

***

“You’re actually trusting those two to not get into trouble?” River asked as the Doctor bluffed their way into the museum using the psychic paper.

The museum was full of glass cases and signs and looked almost exactly like the 221B Baker Street they had left earlier that day. It was also empty of people.

“Sherlock’s fairly bright, he’ll keep John safe,” the Doctor said, peering in a case at a microscope.

“Only you could get away with calling Sherlock Holmes ‘fairly bright’ in a museum dedicated to his genius,” River said. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve known him a while,” the Doctor replied. 

River opened her mouth to ask another question when the device in her hand beeped. She held it up, letting the scanner get a full sweep. 

“He’s close,” she said. 

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and shook it open, pointing it around the room. 

“He’s been here,” the Doctor said.

River typed frantically on her device, trying to get a lock on exactly where Moriarty had disappeared from.

“No,” the Doctor said slowly, looking at the readout on his screwdriver. He scanned the room again, slowly.

“What is it?” River asked, looking around, trying to see everywhere at once.

“I think you’re looking for me,” a voice said, and a man walked out of the kitchen. “You know, this museum has almost everything correct. I think a head in the fridge would be just the finishing touch.”

“Moriarty,” River said, looking the man up and down. “I thought I knew you.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve seen you before,” Moriarty said. “You, though,” he said, looking at the Doctor, “I don’t know you.” He looked the Doctor up and down. 

“I’m the Doctor.”

“Ah,” Moriarty said. “Well, have a nice day.” He patted the Doctor on the shoulder, then turned, twiddled his fingers at them in a wave as he walked away, heading back into the replica of Sherlock’s bedroom.

“We should go,” River said in an undertone to the Doctor. The Doctor looked down at her, and then followed Moriarty. River followed, exasperated.

Moriarty was nowhere to be found.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t see that coming,” the Doctor said, looking around the room. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the room.

“Anything?” River asked.

“Not a thing,” the Doctor said. “Come on, let’s go find back to the others.”

***

Sherlock picked the lock on the TARDIS to let them back in. 

“What are you doing?” John asked as Sherlock leapt over the steps up onto the console platform.

“Investigating,” he replied, leaning over the console. “Everything’s different this time.”

“You said you knew the Doctor from before,” John said.

“I do,” Sherlock replied. 

John waited for the other man to continue, but nothing was forthcoming. “And?”

“And nothing, John. He came to me with a case, promised to show me the universe. I wasn’t interested. Well, not in the universe. The case was pretty diverting.”

“You seriously turned down a chance to travel the universe?”

“It’s not interesting to me.” Sherlock was examining the underside of the console, everything from waist height to the floor. “He does like to move around, this one. One, no, two other people besides the Doctor and River have been here recently.”

“What was the case?” John asked.

“Missing person,” Sherlock said. “Did you know Chaucer has abominable table manners?”

“Wait, what? Chaucer?” John said.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, and bound up a staircase. John gave a resigned sigh and turned to study the console, trying to understand what Sherlock had seen.

“He’s like a child with a toy,” John muttered to himself.

“JOHN!” Sherlock called a few minutes later.

“WHAT?”

“IS YOUR PHONE WORKING?” 

John climbed the steps, trying to locate Sherlock.

“We’re in a time machine two thousand years in the future and you want to know if my mobile works?” John asked the empty hallway, pitching his voice so that it would carry. 

“I need to text Mycroft,” Sherlock said, emerging from one of the doorways. 

“No service,” John replied, wiggling his phone at Sherlock. 

“Damn,” Sherlock said and disappeared back into the room.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go wandering around?” John asked, following Sherlock, who had settled into an armchair, knees pulled up to his chest.

“I got bored,” Sherlock replied as John settled in the chair opposite. The room was scattered with arm chairs and wingback chairs and swivel chairs with wheels. It was also lined with books. “The Doctor travels with people. He’s had two other here recently, a married couple.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Bedroom down the hallway. Mostly empty, but evidence of shared occupancy. Her hairbrush, his comb. Red head, blond. Not sure about the Roman soldier costume, though.” John chuckled. “The husband is, was, a nurse. They had been travelling with the Doctor for a while. Long red hair like she surely has, it gets everywhere.” He leaned forward and plucked a hair off of the arm of John’s chair in illustration. “I expect that she travelled with him longer than he did, which is interesting.”

“SHERLOCK?” they heard the Doctor call. “DR. WATSON?”

“We’re in here,” John called down the hallway.

“What did Moriarty have to say?” Sherlock asked as the Doctor and River walked in.

“How’d you know we talked to him?” the Doctor asked, sitting down in one of the rolling chairs. He rolled over so he was sitting next to Sherlock.

Sherlock leaned over and plucked something off of the Doctor’s jacket and held it up between his forefinger and thumb, both to examine it and so everyone else could see it. “This. And it stands to reason that he would still be there.”

“What is that?” River asked.

“No idea,” Sherlock said, handing her the small black device. “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

She examined the small black speck. It sat cupped in the middle of her palm, smaller than her thumbnail.

“Maybe it’s a camera?” John guessed, studying it but not touching the thing.

“Tracking device?” River suggested, handing it to the Doctor, who pointed his sonic screwdriver at it.

The small black speck started beeping.

“Bomb!” the Doctor said, and dashed out of the room. John sprang to his feet and followed the Doctor, shaking off River’s restraining hand without a second thought.

The Doctor sprinted up to the main console and yanked a lever. John stumbled as the TARDIS took flight while he was still clattering down the stairs.

“Door!” the Doctor said, and John raced to open one of the doors before the Doctor got there. 

The Doctor threw the small black speck as hard as he could and then slammed the door closed just a second before an explosion rattled the doors.

“John!” Sherlock called as he clattered down the steps. River was just behind him, nearly sprinting to keep up with Sherlock’s longer stride.

“We got rid of it,” John replied, leaning against the doors. His legs went out, and he suddenly found himself crouched on the floor. “I’m fine,” he said, stopping Sherlock only a few feet from him. “We got rid of it, I’m fine.” He started to push himself up, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. He knew it would fade again, like the trembling in his left hand. A large, pale hand appeared in front of him, and he grabbed it with his right hand, thankful for the help but embarrassed that he needed it. 

“I told you Moriarty liked explosions,” John said to the Doctor and River, releasing Sherlock’s hand once he had braced himself against the door. 

“He must have planted it on you when he patted your shoulder,” River said. 

“You just let him walk away?” John asked, tentatively putting weight on his leg. The ache was fading, mercifully. The trembling in his left hand was fading as well. He flexed it subtly; saw Sherlock watching him do it.

“Moriarty vanished,” the Doctor said. “Right out of your bedroom, Sherlock.”

“Yes, how was the museum? Did they get everything right?” Sherlock asked.

“No skull on the mantle,” River said. 

“Interesting,” Sherlock replied, sounding like he honestly didn’t care. “Are we going to go find him now?”

“It’s going to take a bit,” the Doctor said. “Why don’t you all go… take a nap or something? Eat? There’s food in the kitchen. Or we could stop off somewhere! I know this great chip shop.”

“I don’t eat on cases,” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock,” John said in his best ‘we’ve talked about this’ voice. Sherlock lifted one eyebrow at John, but John held his gaze. They had talked about it (had had a pretty decent yelling match about it, actually, after one long case where Sherlock had lived off of coffee, tea, and nicotine patches and then actually physically collapsed on the front steps of their flat once the case was over) and John had won that round and had no intentions of letting Sherlock off the hook.

“Fine,” Sherlock mumbled, and John suppressed a smile.

Once they had all eaten (John had to bully Sherlock into actually consuming food), River and Sherlock both wandered off on their own.

"Is it okay for Sherlock to be wandering around?” John asked, following the Doctor back to the main console platform. He wondered idly what else Sherlock would be able to tell him about the Doctor.

“He’ll be fine, the TARDIS will keep him safe,” the Doctor replied. “This is one of the safest places in the universe.” The Doctor fiddled with something, and then looked up at John. “You should rest, you look just about done in.”

“Can’t,” John said. “The bomb.” He waved his hand at the door. “Can’t sleep just now.” It was true, he was still jittering with nerves and leftover adrenaline.

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “Well, sit down, at least.” 

John sat in one of the chairs and waited for the Doctor to speak again. He examined the TARDIS, still amazed. When the Doctor didn’t speak, John decided to ask the question he’d wanted to know.

“How long have you known Sherlock?” John asked the Doctor.

“Well, I’ve known him for about fifty years,” the Doctor replied. “He’s known me for, umm, four years? Five? I think that’s right. It’s a bit hard to keep track of the timelines.”

“So you really do travel in time?” John asked. 

“You’ve seen it for yourself, Dr. Watson. You were just in New London, two thousand years after your time, in a galaxy several thousand light-years away from your home.”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to process that.” The Doctor smiled.

“How’d you meet him, then? A soldier and a consulting detective. Bit of a strange pair.” The Doctor actually looked at John when he asked, expecting an interesting answer.

John smiled faintly. “We met in the morgue,” he said.

“And he won you over from the first syllable out of his mouth.”

“I thought he must have read up on me at first, talked to Stamford, something. But he’s not a good enough actor for that,” John said thoughtfully. “He got one thing wrong in his initial deduction, too, so there’s that. And I managed to surprise him.”

“Not often that happens,” the Doctor said. He was as still as John had ever seen him in their brief acquaintance. “I think you still do.”

“Do what?”

“Surprise him,” the Doctor said, looking up at John from a console. “You stayed, didn’t you? Even after the skull on the mantle, the head in the fridge…”

“The fingers in the toaster, the dead pig in the sink…” John added. “I did stay. He’s my friend.”

“No man left behind?”

John started to say, “Yes,” but something in the Doctor’s face stopped him and made him reconsider the hasty answer.

“Yes, but that’s not all it is,” John said slowly. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like that either, people always assume we’re gay. No, he’s my friend, Doctor. There’s no one else in the world quite like Sherlock Holmes, and sometimes he needs protecting from that.” John stopped, thought about what he’d just said, and continued, “And if you tell anyone I said that, I will drop you into a black hole, see if I don’t.”

The Doctor smiled. “Genius is lonely, John, believe me I know. More so than Sherlock, but then I’m the very last of my kind out of a whole planet.”

John watched the Doctor pace slowly around the console, flipping a switch here, turning a knob there. He saw weariness in how the Doctor moved and wondered how many others saw it. River did, he thought, but others didn’t. It was like the tightly controlled anger Sherlock always hid when Anderson or Donovan insulted him to his face, right before he cut them down. His revenge was quick and somewhat satisfying, but John knew (or figured, at least) that it had to hurt at some level. The Doctor may claim to be the last of his kind, but Sherlock was unique out of millions.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Doctor?” John asked, pushing himself to his feet.

“Hmm?” the Doctor replied, distracted.

“Doctor, tea,” John said, walking up to stand just behind the Doctor’s elbow. “The TARDIS will run herself for a bit, won’t she?”

“She’s a good old girl,” the Doctor said absently, looking at the centre column. 

“Tea,” John prompted when the Doctor was silent for a few more seconds.

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, and led the way to the kitchen.

John forced the Doctor to sit and puttered around the kitchen, making tea for the two of them. 

“You’re good for him, you know,” the Doctor said, apropos of nothing.

“Good for Sherlock?” John asked, bringing the Doctor’s tea to him. 

The Doctor nodded and sipped. “When I met him the first time, he wasn’t very nice.”

“Still isn’t,” John pointed out. The Doctor chuckled.

“No, I suppose not. But he’s better, I think, than he was.”

“Yeah, I actually got him to agree with Lestrade last week,” John said with a small chuckle. “Although he sulked about it for the next day and a half and then left toes in the butter dish.” John fell silent, thinking. The Doctor let him. “He told me, not long ago, that I was his only friend. That I was his ‘conductor of light,’ whatever that means.”

The Doctor nodded. “John, I travel the universe, but I travel with people a lot. Humans. The bright ones, the clever ones, and some that aren’t particularly either. But the one thing that they all have in common is that they wanted the adventure, wanted to go clattering around the universe with a madman in a box. They wanted to see what the universe had to offer to them, and I was willing to take them along.” He stopped, considering his next words carefully. “Sherlock is much the same, I think, only able to be truly himself, truly, really and truly brilliant, when there’s someone there with him who accepts him.”

“But his brother—”

“Is his brother, and not you,” the Doctor said. “He may understand Sherlock’s deductions, be able to follow his mental leaps, but I’ve met Mycroft Holmes, and you are as different as two humans can be.” 

“You have River,” John protested.

“I know,” the Doctor replied with a small, secret smile. “But Sherlock hasn’t got anyone else. And I don’t have River all the time. I offered Sherlock the chance to travel with me once, you know? And he turned me down. He lives for detective work, and that big brilliant brain of his would be so dull without it.”

John nodded, not sure what to say. He had a million questions, wanted to know the particulars of the case the Doctor and Sherlock had worked on together, wanted to know the Doctor’s past, where he had gotten the TARDIS. But there was something about the Doctor that kept him from asking. He kept quiet, so he and the Doctor finished their tea in silence. 

John took the Doctor’s empty cup and the Doctor looked up at him, startled.

“Genius needs comfort too, Doctor,” John said quietly, putting the cups in the sink. 

“Maybe I’ll take you with me, when this is all said and done,” the Doctor said as John was drying the cups and putting them away.

John considered, just for a moment, and shook his head.

“Someone’s got to look out for Sherlock, or he’s going to get himself killed sooner rather than later,” John replied. He caught the Doctor’s expression before it got shuttered away, a quick glimpse of surprise and sadness. 

“Then maybe I’ll come back for you some day, John Watson,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Now, go get some rest.” 

“JOHN!” they heard Sherlock call.

John sighed. “Yes?”

“Ah, there you are. Is your phone working yet?” Sherlock asked, bounding up to the console platform.

“Still no service,” John replied, looking at his mobile.

“Let me see,” the Doctor said, flicking open his sonic screwdriver. He took John’s phone and pointed his sonic screwdriver at it for a moment before handing the phone back to John.

“Full service,” John said, surprised. Sherlock held out his phone and the Doctor worked on his as well.

“I thought I fixed your phone the last time I met you,” the Doctor said as he handed Sherlock’s phone back.

“You did,” Sherlock replied. “That one ended up in the Thames during a case.”

“His last one fell five stories into a skip and shattered,” John said. “And the one before that got run over by a lorry.”

“Well, try not to lose that one,” the Doctor said. “You’ve got full service anywhere in the universe. And my number.”

“Your number?” John repeated.

“This is a phone box,” the Doctor said. “With a proper phone and everything.”

“Good luck getting him to actually answer, though,” River said. “Tea time’s over. The TARDIS has picked up something.”

The four of them raced back to the main console room, everything else forgotten.

“He’s back in London,” River said, looking at the monitor. “Why is he back there?”

“It’s a place he knows,” Sherlock replied, looking over River’s shoulder. John wasn’t sure if Sherlock actually understood what was on the monitor because he didn’t, but Sherlock continued to study it. “He knows he’s being followed, but not by whom.” Sherlock turned on his heels, thinking. “That museum, Doctor. I’m assuming it told when I died?”

“Museums usually do,” the Doctor replied, his voice wary. “Why?”

“I’m assuming Moriarty knows the date, time, and how, because he was in the museum,” Sherlock said, sitting down in the nearest chair. He pressed his fingers together as if in prayer and stared at nothing.

“He could have gone for something else,” River suggested.

“Oh,” Sherlock said quietly, and everyone’s attention immediately snapped to him. “Oh. He went to see if he was the one who beat me. If he won.” Sherlock got up and yanked the monitor down to his eye level. “You said he’s in London?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said.

“Where? Exactly, tell me exactly where,” Sherlock said, pulling out his phone and typing furiously.

“Hyde Park,” the Doctor said, pulling the monitor toward him and tapping a few keys on the keyboard. “He hasn’t moved.”

Sherlock’s phone beeped with an incoming text message alert. Sherlock, who had been pacing around the console, went very still when he read the message.

“It’s him,” he said to John. 

“Why would he contact you?” the Doctor asked, setting coordinates on the TARDIS. 

“He likes to taunt,” John said when Sherlock didn’t reply. “What’s the message, Sherlock?”

“‘Lovely day for a walk in the park,’” Sherlock replied, reading out the message. “‘Come fly a kite. Or two.’”

“Oh, no,” River said, jerking the phone out of Sherlock’s hand and reading the message for herself.

“What?” John asked.

“A kite isn’t a children’s toy, not in the time we just came from,” River said, handing the phone back to Sherlock. 

“Then what is it?” John asked.

“It’s an aerial assault weapon,” she replied. “It’s capable of levelling five city blocks, or the small ones are. It’s essentially a centralized carpet bomb.”

Sherlock’s phone beeped again. He looked down at it and read out the message. “‘You’re not even here. You’re going to miss the fireworks.’” Sherlock looked at the phone, studying the words. John could see the thoughts swirling in Sherlock’s eyes.

“Why would he go to the future just to get a bomb?” John asked, still watching Sherlock. “If he’s got all of time and space at his feet, why come back here?”

“Me,” Sherlock said. “He wants me.”

“What is his fascination with you?” River asked.

“I expect we’ll find out soon,” Sherlock said. “Doctor, I’d rather not let him know that we’re travelling with you.”

“You don’t want him to know we can follow him,” John said, catching on.

“Exactly. If Moriarty thinks he has one up on us...” Sherlock started

“...he’ll be overconfident,” John finished.

“They really are perfect together,” River said to the Doctor. John pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the clip, chamber, and safety.

“Oi! What’d you bring that for?” the Doctor said.

“Do you really think I’d go after Moriarty without it?” John asked. “The last time I met him he tried to blow me up.”

“With what?” the Doctor asked.

“A bomb. Strapped to my chest,” John replied flatly, double checking that the safety was on before he put the gun back. “After he’d strapped bombs to three other people, one of them a blind old woman who he actually did blow up. He used me to get to Sherlock.” They all stumbled as the TARDIS landed.

“Sorry,” River said. “Got a little distracted.”

Sherlock swung his coat on. “Where are we?”

“Your front hall,” the Doctor said. 

“Mrs. Hudson’s not going to like that,” John said, stepping out of the front door into his own hallway. Sherlock brushed past him, heading for his desk. 

“She won’t notice,” the Doctor replied, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the TARDIS, which vanished.

“It’s evening,” John said, peering out of the windows. “It was morning when we left.”

“Yes, well, it’s about seven hours later than it was when we left,” the Doctor replied.

“You said Hyde Park?” Sherlock asked, pulling out his phone again. 

“Who are you texting now?” John asked.

“Mycroft. If this goes badly, he needs to know what’s happening,” Sherlock replied.

“It must be dire if you’re willingly talking to your brother,” John said, the joke falling somewhat flat.

“Maybe he’ll actually be able to do something,” Sherlock grumbled. “Do we know where the bomb is?”

“No,” River said, typing on her hand held device. “He may not even have one, we could be wrong.”

“He’s got something,” Sherlock muttered. “Keep looking for that. John, we need to catch a cab.” 

“I can take you there,” River said, keying coordinates into her Vortex Manipulator. “It’s less flashy than the TARDIS, but it’ll get you there faster than a cab.”

“Fine,” Sherlock replied. 

“I’ll follow in the TARDIS,” the Doctor said.

“I’m ready when you are,” River said.

John and Sherlock put their hands on top of River’s Vortex Manipulator as she pressed the button. John stumbled as they landed in Hyde Park behind a tree. Sherlock was shaking his head slowly, trying to clear it.

“Sorry, it’s a bit rough if you don’t know what you’re getting into,” she said, keeping her voice low.

“Just over there,” Sherlock said, pointing. “Stay here.”

John started to protest, but Sherlock had already taken off, moving silently around the small clearing. John silently cursed Sherlock, but didn’t follow.

“You could have gone anywhere,” Sherlock said, stepping from behind a tree. Moriarty whirled and grinned. “Why here?”

“This is as good as anywhere else,” Moriarty replied. “Big open space, lots of people around.” He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the people barely visible through the trees. Even though night was falling quickly, there were still a lot of people out jogging or walking dogs or just taking a lazy stroll. 

“And you’re hoping that will keep me from making a scene?” Sherlock asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, I’m hoping you’ll make one,” Moriarty said. “So I can make one as well.”

“Your kite bomb?” Sherlock asked. “And time travel. Now that’s cheating.”

“Oh, so you do know about it,” Moriarty said, sounding almost gleeful. “Did big brother tell you?”

“No,” Sherlock said. 

Moriarty tilted his head, clearly expecting Sherlock to continue. When Sherlock didn’t, he looked up at the sky and asked, “So how’d you know?” Sherlock continued to look straight at Moriarty.

“I have my ways,” Sherlock said. 

“Oh, now, that’s not like you,” Moriarty said, his attention suddenly and completely focused on Sherlock. “You love to show off, explain it to the normal people. So come on, tell me. How’d you figure it out?”

“I see no reason why I should,” Sherlock replied with a smirk. “Just as I see no reason as to why I should tell you why I know that the device on your wrist allows you to travel in time. Vortex Manipulator, I believe, is the name.” Moriarty’s eyebrows shot up and he grinned. “Ah, I see I’ve surprised you.”

“I’d just love to know where you got your information,” Moriarty said, circling Sherlock slowly. Sherlock didn’t move, but let Moriarty circle. 

“Does he really have a bomb?” John murmured to River, who had been working with her handheld device the whole time.

“Yes,” River whispered back. “It’s not near us, though.”

“That’s only slightly reassuring,” John replied. “Where is it?”

River showed him her device and pointed out a small, blinking red square on the screen.

“Jesus Christ, it’s on top of the Gherkin,” John said. 

“There’s another one on top of Parliament,” River said as another blinking box appeared. 

“Where I got my information is irrelevant,” they heard Sherlock say. “My sources have ways, Moriarty.” 

“Who’s he trying to be, the next Guy Fawkes?” John muttered.

“Apparently,” River replied. “I’m sending this to the Doctor. He needs to know. Maybe he can disarm them somehow.”

“Good luck landing the TARDIS on top of the Gherkin.”

“Tell me!” Moriarty yelled suddenly. River jumped, but John didn’t. He knew Moriarty’s outbursts, had heard them before. Unfortunately, when River jumped, her foot landed on a stick, which cracked alarmingly loudly in the lull after Moriarty’s yell. “Ah, so there are others here. You might as well come out and play, Dr. Watson!”

John signalled for River to stay put. He pulled his gun out, flicked the safety off, and levelled it at Moriarty as he stepped out from behind the trees.

“Is that how you greet company?” Moriarty said.

“It is when the company’s already tried to blow me up,” John retorted. “So, bombs over the Gherkin and Parliament? You’re about four months late to do a tribute to Guy Fawkes.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Moriarty said, rocking back and forth on his heels. “How’d you know where they were? Even Sherlock here didn’t know that.”

“I have my ways,” John replied, keeping his gun steady. Sherlock was inching closer to Moriarty, who was watching John. Moriarty may be crazy, but he knew to keep his eye on the man holding a gun on him.

“You’ve got friends in high places,” Moriarty said, realization on his face. “And it’s not your brother dear,” he said over his shoulder to Sherlock.

“Mycroft knows,” Sherlock said, inching closer, his eyes flicking to John, who nodded. John had texted Mycroft as soon as he and River had figured out where the bombs were.

“But he didn’t tell you,” Moriarty said in a sing-song voice. “No, you know someone else. Someone else is giving you information. I’m almost disappointed, Sherlock.”

Sherlock lunged for Moriarty, grabbing him around the waist. Moriarty struck out with his right arm, which Sherlock grabbed and then flipped open the cover on Moriarty’s Vortex Manipulator. Before John could get a better shot, both Moriarty and Sherlock winked out of existence with a crackle of electricity and a puff of smoke.

“Where did they go?” John demanded, whirling around to face River and lowering his gun.

“Sherlock activated the Vortex Manipulator somehow,” River said, typing furiously. 

“I know that!” John shouted. “Where the hell are they?”

“I don’t know!” River replied. “I’m trying to find out. Just give me a minute!”

John’s phone beeped. He yanked it from his pocket with his free hand and read the message.

“Sherlock’s all right!” he called. “He managed to send me GPS coordinates. Will those help you at all?”

“Yes,” River said, keying the coordinates into her Vortex Manipulator. John’s phone beeped again.

“He says he’s still in our time, but it’s about one in the morning where he is,” John said. The phone beeped again. “He’s running from Moriarty.”

“He’s in Utah. Why is it always Utah?” River said.

“I’m not going to ask,” John said.

“Spoilers,” River replied absently. She held her device up to her ear like a phone. “Doctor, you need to finish what you’re doing, Sherlock and Moriarty have transported themselves halfway around the world.” She paused. “I’ve sent you the coordinates, now hurry up.”

“That thing is a phone?” John asked.

“Phone, scanner, computer, tracker, it can do nearly anything,” River said. She grinned at him. “You’ve got so much to look forward to.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Let’s get going before they kill each other,” John said, typing out a quick response on his phone before putting it back in his pocket. River held out her arm. John placed his hand over her Vortex Manipulator. He didn’t stumble when he landed this time.

“Where the hell are we?” he said. Their surroundings were nearly completely flat and the ground glowed strangely in the moonlight. There were more stars in the sky than John had seen since coming back to London. He turned in a slow circle, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of movement.

“Over there,” River said, pointing with one hand and thrusting a torch toward John with her other hand. John checked his safety was off before dashing towards the brawling figures. 

His foot came down on something hard that wasn’t a rock. He looked down, saw that it was Moriarty’s Vortex Manipulator, and picked it up so he could shove it in his pocket. A grunt of pain made him look back up towards the two shadowy figures that were brawling nearly silently on the strange ground.

“Halt!” John called in his best Captain voice, pointing both the torch and the gun at the two figures. The figure on top, Sherlock, spared him a glance and caught a blow across his cheek for his trouble. Sherlock responded with a head butt that John knew must have hurt, but Sherlock didn’t even look dazed.

“Oh, very good,” Moriarty said, his voice a little slurred as he finally fell still beneath Sherlock. “Very well done. Too bad there are bombs set to go off if I don’t return in,” he paused to check his watch, “two minutes.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” a voice said out of the darkness. River whirled with her torch to find the speaker. John kept his on Sherlock and Moriarty. The Doctor strolled out of the darkness. “I found all three of your bombs and disarmed them. They’re now somewhere in the middle of the sun. There may be some interesting solar flares for a day or two, but no harm done.”

“You,” Moriarty said when he saw the Doctor. He looked from the Doctor to River. “Both of you. You were in the museum. I blew you up.”

“You tried,” the Doctor said. “It was a very good try, too, but I’ve had better.”

“Who are you?” Moriarty demanded.

“I’m the Doctor, and this is River Song,” the Doctor said.

“Hello,” River said with a small wave and a smug smile. Moriarty’s eyes locked on River’s Vortex Manipulator, and realization dawned in his eyes.

“I should have killed you both when I had the chance,” Moriarty said, struggling against Sherlock’s hold. “Would have been easy, even fun, right there in the Sherlock Holmes Museum.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sherlock spat, adjusting his hold, bringing his superior height and weight to bear. “I ought to just leave you here to rot.”

“But then you’ll never know how I did it,” Moriarty taunted. 

“You got the Vortex Manipulator from the galactic black market after making a contact somewhere in your underworld,” the Doctor said. “Once you figured out how it worked, you went around and messed about a bit, generally just showing off. I hate a show off, unless it’s me. Then, after you got bored with that, you decided you’d mess around in the time stream, which alerted River, who alerted me, and I got these two.” He motioned to Sherlock and John. “They helped me track you down and now you’re in Utah without a Vortex Manipulator and without a way to get home.” He stopped, and studied Moriarty for a moment. “You could have been so wonderful.”

“Very good,” Moriarty said. “But I still know something he doesn’t.” He used his head to motion to Sherlock, since it was the only part of his body he could move easily.

“When I’m supposed to die?” Sherlock asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, I don’t care about that. And your placement of the bombs was sloppy at best. Even if they’d gone off, at this time of night those places are deserted. Lots of property damage, yes, but minimal loss of life.”

“Sherlock,” John said, his tone clipped.

“Yes, John, I’m aware. Not good. Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Sherlock replied.

“No, it’s better than knowing when you’re going to die, Sherlock,” Moriarty said, and then lifted his head to whisper something into Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock jerked back in surprise, but didn’t let go. The silence stretched between the five of them before Sherlock said, “Doctor, we need to get back. Lestrade will be needing me.”

“What are we going to do about him?” John asked, motioning to Moriarty with his torch.

“Leave him,” Sherlock said, pulling and hand back and hitting Moriarty square across the jaw. Moriarty went limp. “We have to leave him here.”

“We can’t do that!” John protested as Sherlock got up. “He’s a maniac! He’ll come back and kill us.”

“Sherlock’s right,” the Doctor said quietly. “There’s a fixed point in time coming up, and you three, all three, of you have to be there.”

“Leave him here. He’ll find his way back,” Sherlock said, crouching down and patting Moriarty’s pockets. He extracted a cell phone, a wallet, and a set of keys. When he saw the other three watching him, he said, “Just because he has to live does not mean I have to make it easy for him.”

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” River said. 

“Doctor, we need to go back to this morning,” Sherlock said. “I told Lestrade we’d be there.”

“You can’t cross your own timeline! What if you end up meeting yourself?” the Doctor said.

“We’ll just be sure to be out of the flat all day,” Sherlock replied. “I’m sure we can manage that.”

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor said. “Come on, it’s cold. I’ve never liked the salt flats.”

“Is that where we are?” John said as they started walking.

“Bonneville Salt Flats,” Sherlock said

“One of the strangest places in the universe,” the Doctor added. 

While they were in the TARDIS, the Doctor got a phone call, something about aliens and 19th century France. 

“You could come with me,” he said to Sherlock and John.

“Boring,” Sherlock pronounced. “Take us home.”

“Dr. Watson?” the Doctor asked, but John shook his head, glancing over at Sherlock. The Doctor gave him a small smile and pulled a lever.

“It was good to see you again, Sherlock, and nice to meet you Dr. Watson,” the Doctor said as John and Sherlock exited into their front hallway. “You should be back about five minutes after you left.”

“Good bye, Doctor, River. Come on, John,” Sherlock said.

“Nice to meet you both,” John said, waving. The Doctor and River both nodded at him, and then the Doctor shut the TARDIS door. With an alarming groaning, the TARDIS disappeared.

“Sherlock!” John called as he hurried to catch up. “You could wait, you know, have said thank you for their help.”

“Why? They came to us,” Sherlock replied, holding up his arm to signal a taxi while he texted with his other hand. John sighed and decided the argument wasn’t worth the energy.

They got into the taxi. Sherlock gave an address, and John settled back into the seat, a wave of tiredness washing over him. They rode in silence for a few minutes before John remembered what he had wanted to ask Sherlock.

“What did he say to you?” 

“Who?” Sherlock asked, looking up from his phone.

“Moriarty, when he whispered in your ear. What did he say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Sherlock,” John said, trying to put all of his impatience into that one word.

“He told me that he’s going to enjoy watching me fall.”

John fell silent, mulling over what that could mean.

“Just here!” Sherlock called as they approached the crime scene. He paid the cabby as they got out.

“What did he mean, watch you fall?” John asked.

“Not important,” Sherlock said. “Come on, we have to be gone all day. Ah, Lestrade! Where’s the body?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This may or may not become a series, I haven't decided yet.


End file.
